


Shut Up and Dance with Me

by mothmanaintshit



Series: Strange Magic [8]
Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, College AU, F/M, Fluff, Love Confessions, Masquerade Gala
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-08 22:45:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5516066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mothmanaintshit/pseuds/mothmanaintshit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is my Strange Magic Secret Santa gift for Sophaoat on tumblr c: I hope you like it ^_^</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shut Up and Dance with Me

**Author's Note:**

> Version of 'Shut Up and Dance' used in this fic is 'The White Panda Remix'.

Marianne huffed as she fell into the other side of the booth Bog sat in. He looked up from his phone, eyebrows raised at the sight of Marianne up this early – not even 7:30 AM, seeing her at this time was _unheard_ of – but he quickly pulled himself together as an opened cream colored envelope was tossed in front of him. He looked down at the envelope, letting his phone slip into the chest pocket of his flannel opened over jacket, before picking it up. A waitress came over as he pulled the card out, Marianne ordering for them both before the waitress scurried off, leaving Bog to read the contents of the card as Marianne waited anxiously in front of him. 

“You, Marianne Seighin—” Marianne hissed at the use of her middle name, “—Ròsach-Fields, are cordially invited ta’the yearly Charity Masquerade Gala—” The waitress brought Marianne’s coffee and two plates’ with two toasted plain bagels, cream cheese and lox. Marianne mumbled a ‘thank you’ before working on her coffee. Bog couldn’t help but smirk at the food, knowing fully well that he was rubbing off on the little pixie.

“How’d ye even find me here?” Bog chuckled as he shoved the card back in the envelope, tossing it back towards Marianne. 

“You’re predictable.” Marianne shrugged, bringing the mug of coffee up to her lips, and stopping the envelope from sliding off the table with her elbow. 

“Yeah, _sure_ ,” Bog rolled his eyes, picking up a bagel and looking at Marianne through the hole in the middle, “Now, tell me why ye, a woman who can’na’talk until _two_ hours after having her mornin’ coffee, came al’tha way here.”

Marianne’s nose wrinkled at him, using her elbow to push the envelope back towards him. “Did you even _read_ everything, Bog?”

Bog pursed his lips, setting the bagel back down and looking guilty down at the envelope, “… _Yessss_ —”

“Bog!” Marianne whined, setting her mug down in front of her and pouting out her bottom lip. 

“ _What_?” He flinched, slouching down.

“I need to take a plus one—”

“Then take Sunny.” 

“Dawn’s taking Sunny.” 

“Stuff?” 

The edge of Marianne’s lip twitch in annoyance, “Bog…” 

“Thang?”

“ _Bog_ —”

“ _Brutus_?”

“ _Bogart Duncan_ _Kingston_!” Marianne hissed, running a hand through her hair – a nervous habit she picked up. Bog growled at the use of his full name, narrowing his eyes at Marianne and he sat up straight.

“Please—”

“Ah dun’ _do_ parties, Mari.”

“Please, I’m _begging_ you.” Marianne clasped her hands together, lightly shaking them as she stared Bog down. He narrowed his eyes at the pixie, reaching for the envelope and pulling out the card once more.

 _You, Marianne Seighin Ròsach-Fields, are cordially invited to the yearly Charity Masquerade Gala on April 5 th. This year we will be raising money to reconstruct the Homeless Shelter on 3rd street—_

“Blah, blah, blah…” Bog mumbled as he skimmed through the rest. His eye’s widened near the end, rereading the sentence twice—three times, _just to make sure_ —

His head snapped up to glare at Marianne, “ _No_.”

“Bog—”

“ _Na **fuckin’** way_!” Bog shoved the card back in the envelope and nearly threw it over Marianne. “Black tie _required_? Plus, _masks_? Tough Girl, I— ** _Na_**.” Bog set his elbows against the table, his head falling in his hands.

“What do I have to do? Bog, _please_ —”

“Can’ye jus’ tag along with Dawn an’ Sunny?” Bog sighed, running a hand through his hair, shaking his head.

“No.” Marianne slouched back against the booth, her lips tugging down in a small frown, “They’re a _couple_ now. I don’t want to be the third wheel… I _can’t_ be a third wheel.”

Bog crossed his arms and slid further down into the booth, his brows furrowed and eyes hard. His hand came up to rub his chin, nails lightly scratched the stubble that grew. He looked back up at Marianne, “Do I have to shave?”

“You do not.” She looked at him with hope filled eyes, lightly biting her bottom lip as she waited for the inevitable: Him agreeing. He always caved when it came it her. Bog groaned, shaking his head and loudly cursing. Guess he _was_ a tad predictable.

“Wha’s in it f’r me, Tough Girl?” Bog clenched his fist and lightly banging it on the table, looking at Marianne with mild annoyance.

“Name it and it’s yours, Bog.” Marianne let out a relieved sigh before beaming at him. Bog grunted in response, looking down at his mug. He contemplated what exactly he would even want to get out of this. For once, he didn’t really _need_ anything, he had the money to finish his last year of college, had a job already on hold for himself, even a place to live with the job, but if Marianne was getting _technical_ …

Bog unclenched his fist and shyly looked up at Marianne as she sipped at her coffee, looking out the diner’s window next to their booth. He watched the curve of her neck as she sipped her coffee, the way she dragged a hand through her disheveled pixie cut hair, how her amber eyes glistened against the morning sunrise. Bog forced himself to look back down at his coffee, his lips pulling back in a snarl. What he wanted, he couldn’t have; and it didn’t matter.

He swallowed thickly, “Ah’ll get back ta’ye on th’t, Tough Girl.”

* * *

Bog sat in the back of the large classroom, a hand clasped tightly around his cellphone in his pocket as his leg bounced up and down. It’s been three days since Bog agreed to go to the Gala with Marianne, and only four more days until the Gala on Saturday. To say he was anxious was an understatement, he was damn near _petrified_. Besides the fact that this Gala was black tie and mask required, he’d be standing in a room full of rich, proper, high class citizens… _and_ Marianne. His best friend since high school, the woman whose wedding he almost attended, the woman whose heart broke in front of his eyes, the woman who had an amazing right hook – one he can vouch for. Bog’s free hand came up to rub his left cheek, a small smile gracing his lips as he remembered the _fond_ memory he had of their first meeting. He chewed on his bottom lip, leg still bouncing as he set his arm back on the desk and looked towards the window. 

Marianne had been on edge since he agreed to take her to the Gala. He suspected it was because of the rumors going around about the very man who had broken her heart had apparently come back to the States _just_ to attend the gala and raise money for the event.

Roland Knight.

Bog had since been trying to convince Marianne to no longer attend, but she said her father wouldn’t hear it – _won’t_ hear it. She had a duty as the future Head of the Ròsach-Fields’ household to attend all gala’s, parties, cookouts, _anything_ that would further the family name.

Roland at least has the decency to stay away from Marianne… for now. Bog wouldn’t be surprised if he suddenly got a call from the man himself, asking where Marianne was. Not that it would even be hard to find her. She still lived with her father and sister in the mansion that was too big for their family, but held too many memories to let go of. Bog took a deep breath; he himself understood that pain all too well. The only reason his mother decided to stay in Scotland was for the memories his own home held, memories he was personally glad to be away from.

Bog nearly fell out of his chair when the side of his neck was suddenly flicked, and Marianne’s loud, snort filled laugh sounded behind him as he hissed over his shoulder at her.

“That was priceless.” Marianne laughed, moving to sit in the empty desk in front of him. She set her bag down as Bog looked around at the now empty room. Class had ended and he hadn’t even noticed.

_Shit… What was the homework?_

Marianne hooked her leg around the chair and faced Bog, crossing her arms over the back of the chair with a knowing smile on her face. “You’ve been sitting in here _alone_ for twenty minutes, Bog.”

“Ah know.” He mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Uh, huh.” Marianne smirked at him, eyes watching him carefully before she continued. “I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt on that.”

Marianne’s smirk faded as the silence set around them. She cleared her throat as her hand came up to her shoulder, tightly grabbing it before slowing rubbing it. 

“ _So_ —” _Oh, no_ , Bog’s hand gripped the edge of the desk, anger already spreading through his body as the thought of Roland making an appearance worked its way back into his mind—

“Dawn has... uh,” Marianne cleared her throat, rolling her shoulder before shooting a smug smile at him, “ _asked_ that I get your opinion on _colors_.”

He furrowed his brows in confusion, his anger quickly deflating as he took in the statement, “… _Colors_?”

“Yes.” Marianne shrugged, the hand that had been rubbing the back of her neck unlatched itself and waved around in a dismissive manner. “I, personally, don’t give a flying _fuck_ about color coding, _but_ Dawn does. She’s offered to take care of it for me—us.”

“…Us?”

“Yeah.” Marianne said, her careless voice quickly becoming timid, tucking a stray hair behind her ear and looking out towards the window. “… _Us_.”

Bog, finally, let go of his phone in his pocket, his leg no longer bouncing, and crossed his arms, leaning forward against the desk to rest his arms against it. The silence was awkward – sadly, an awkward the two were too familiar with –, both avoiding eye-contact but neither wanting to continue looking away.

“Ye don’hav’ta go, Marianne.” Bog finally spoke, fingers gripping his sleeves tightly. “Ye al’eady dun’wanna go—”

“Bog—” Marianne looked at him then, shoulders hunching up.

“Marianna… if _he’s_ there, Ah can’na promise what Ah’ll do.” Bog shook his head, placing his hands on the desk and leaning back as far as he could without tipping the chair.

“Ah wan’ta tear the _slimy git’s_ throat out f’r hurtin’ ye.” He said softly, barely above a whisper and, he had hoped, that Marianne hadn’t heard it. She had, the slight tilt in her head gave it away, causing Bog to mumble a small curse, his eyes narrowing at the ground next to them. She slowly reached out for him, placing her hand on his and grazing her thumb against the back of his hand.

“If that’s what you want.” Marianne mumbled, a smile pulling at her lips. “You got it.” Bog’s eyes opened wide, cheeks slowly reddening as he stared at Marianne in wonder.

_Did she **really** just given me permission to—?_

“Just,” She started, raising her other hand and pointing her index finger at him, “promise me you’ll do it _after_ the party. My dad hates you enough as it is.”

“Hah,” Bog snorted, his face burning, “and here Ah was lookin’ fer a reason f’r the hate ta continue.”

“Oh, don’t worry.” Marianne’s hand tightened around his. “My father’s hate for you will _never_ die.”

Bog looked down at her hand, a small smile tugging on his own lips. He noticed her nail polish, dark purple that shined with red highlights; and the thought struck him.

“Purple,” He looked back up at her, “and black. Ah’m no’ta fond of _wearing_ purple, but the color looks perfect on you.” Bog’s mouth quickly shut, eyes widening at Marianne’s growing red face. Her hand had tightened around him as he spoke and, too suddenly, she pulled away from him. Her hand going to her shoulder and lightly rubbing it in a nervous manner. Marianne opened her mouth before shutting it again, hands moving to clasp together. Bog cleared his throat, sitting straighter as Marianne met his gaze.

“I’ll… I’ll let Dawn know.” Marianne dipping her head to hid her blush, a smile tugging at her lips. “Purple and black is, well... _perfect_.”

* * *

 _[From: Marianne]  
_ _[i picked up our masks and gave urs 2 sunny]  
_ _[Sent: 4:04 PM]_

 _[From: Marianne]  
_ _[please let me know if it fits correctly]  
_ _[and let me know if its okay]  
_ _[Sent: 4:08 PM]_

 _[From: Marianne]  
_ _[i dont want to make you feel anymore out of place than u already are]  
_ _[shit]  
_ _[that came out wrong]  
_ _[Sent: 4:09 PM]_

 _[From: Marianne]  
_ _[Bog?]  
_ _[Sent: 4:13 PM]_

 _[From: Bog]  
_ _[Got it.]  
_ _[Fits fine.]  
_ _[‘Perfect’.]  
_ _[I wasn’t uncomfortable, but now I am.]  
_ _[Sent: 7:43 PM]_

 _[From: Bog]  
_ _[Language.]  
_ _[Yes, that came out extremely wrong.]  
_ _[I was in class — as you should have been.]  
_ _[Where even are you?]  
_ _[Sent: 7:44 PM]_

 _[From: Marianne]  
_ _[i was dress shopping with dawn]  
_ _[partys only 2 nights away]  
_ _[dawns already pissed we waited this long]  
_ _[Sent: 7:49 PM]_

 _[From: Bog]  
_ _[And now?]  
_ _[Sent: 7:49 PM]_

 **_[From: Marianne]  
_ ** _[home]  
_ _[Sent: 7:50 PM]_

_[From: Bog]  
_ _[Want me to drop off Professor Plum’s notes?]  
_ _[Sent: 7:51 PM]_

 _[From: Marianne]  
_ _[have i told u i love u recently?]  
_ _[if not, i love you]  
_ _[Sent: 7:51 PM]_

 _[From: Bog]  
_ _[I’ll take that as a no?]  
_ _[Sent: 7:51 PM]_

 _[From: Marianne]  
_ _[ur such a jerk]  
_ _[just bring me the notes you cockroach]  
_ _[Sent: 7:52 PM]_

* * * 

The night the duo absolutely _dreaded_ came all too quickly, and neither realized exactly how nervous the other was. Marianne and Bog nerves were nearly the same, and thoughts almost identical. At this exact moment, both were thinking – though on completely different sides of town: _Was this a date?_  

Marianne, nor Bog, ever specified if this _was_ a date – why would they? It was just a friend helping a friend, and one of those friends getting a favor – which he still has yet to specify – out of it. Nothing romantic about it. Nope, nada, zip, zilch, nothing at all— _except that this was **practically a date**._  

Bog glared at himself in the full body mirror in his shared dorm. His roommate, and Dawn’s boyfriend, Sunny, laid on his own bed a few feet away, already dressed, mask lying next to him as he texted Dawn. Bog sneered at his reflection, looking himself over once more and feeling even more repulsed then seconds ago. He didn’t do parties, much less dress-up events. A mask? It was fucking _April_. Who the hell wore masks this time of year? Unconsciously, Bog adjusted his own mask – a mask that fit him so well it was sickening. It was a simple, yet not _too_ simple, _Colombina_ mask. Black glitter around the eye’s, the glitter moving down to trace the nose intent, intricate embossed swirls went around the mask, light touches of the black glitter at the end of some of the swirls. Marianne had showed him her mask when he dropped off Professor Plum’s notes two nights ago. Hers was made of metal, a high arch on the right side of the mask, the metal shooting out and twisting like vines. Five crystals were placed down the masks nose, a few scattered around the mask itself, between the metal openings.

He remembered Marianne moaning about how painful the mask felt against her nose, she even wore it for an hour while he was going over Plum’s notes with her. When she took it off, there was a red mark from the bridge of her nose to the tip from the metal. Bog had asked if she wanted to find another mask, even asked, once again, if she wished to ditch the party entirely. She said it was too late to find another one, at least another matching pair, and she punched his shoulder and said she would continue to do it every time he asked.

And Marianne… _Oh_ , she hadn’t lied when she said Dawn had everything covered. Hell, even the suit the younger sibling threw at him last night fit like a glove. Ironically enough, Dawn didn’t think his own suit was black enough. He shook his head and sighed, shoving a hand in his pocket while the other moved to rub the back of his neck. 

This was stupid. He never should have agreed to this. Gods… 

“ _Why did Ah say **yes**_.” He hissed, narrowing his eyes at his reflection.

“Dude,” Sunny was suddenly standing beside him, his own mask – blue, yellow and too bright and perfect for Sunny – tied on to his face. “You said yes because you’re a good friend. If Dawn hadn’t asked me, I’d without a doubt be going with Marianne.”

Bog sighed, adjusting his mask once again, “Ah’m ah mumblin’ mess.”

“That you are.” Sunny agreed grimly. Bog turned his head and glared down at his roommate, but the glare was ineffective. Sunny had grown use to Bog’s sour moods – much better than Thang ever did. 

“Look, just relax, alright?” Sunny shrugged moving back towards the bed. “It’s not like you’re professing your undying love to the woman – which you should! I don’t think I’ve ever seen two people dance around each other like you and Marianne.”

Bog snarled at Sunny’s back, pulling down on his tie to loosen it. “Ah cou’say the same ‘bout ye an’ Dawn, _Gray_.” 

“You’re just making sure she isn’t alone tonight, like _any_ good friend would do.” Bog, already seething at the mention of his ‘undying love’ for Marianne, held in his rebuttal as a hard, palm open slap slammed against his door.

“You guys better be decent! I don’t wanna see any dark _or_ pale asses.” Marianne quickly added, “ _Again_!”

Marianne opened the door, hands over her eyes as she walked in. She waited for the usually snarky comment from Bog or the confirmation from Sunny that both were dressed, and when Sunny’s voice sounded Marianne opened her fingers a crack to make sure that the men were fully clothed. Both the men rolled their eyes at Marianne’s dramatic entrance, and Bog couldn’t help but be thankful for it. It reminded him that everything was normal, that this Gala was just like any other time they hung out together. Two friends that are there for each other when no one else could be. Exactly what they’d always been… and always will be. _Friends_.

 _Best friends,_ Bog reminded himself as Marianne quickly turned away and to kick the door shut. Marianne moved back to where she stood, pulling the duffle bag off her shoulder and tucking some stray hair behind her ear. She looked at the men when she heard sharp intakes of breath, and raised an eyebrow as their eyes stuck to her. She side stepped, just to make sure, and – _sure enough_ – both the men’s eyes followed her to the side.

Marianne bit her lip and placed her arms behind her back, a hand playing with the assortment of bracelets Dawn had gifted her for tonight.

 _Do I look that bad?,_ she wondered.

Bog’s eyes were wide, his entire body straight and stiff; he could barely _breathe_ as he took Marianne in. Her chocolate eyes, earth kissed and dark with vines of shining hazel pulsing through the cracks, were rimmed with black eyeliner, winged at the edge’s of her eyes, giving them an almost feline look. Plum lipstick colored her plump lips with the perfect amount of gloss to make them shine, smoky eye shadow matching the color of her lips glowed around her eyes.

Sunny was looking at her strangely, head tilted to the side with squinty eyes – like how people look when they actually look up at the sun. He didn’t believe that this was Marianne; all prim and, hell, beautiful. He hadn’t seen Marianne in this light before. Sure, he’d seen her in make-up before, but never like this. Marianne cleared her throat, cheeks blazing red from the staring that never seemed to end.

“Ye look _beautiful_.” Bog said breathlessly and without thought. He mentally cursed at himself as his face heated. Sunny made a small whistle behind him – whether it was to help him or wordlessly say ‘nice going, you just blew it’, he didn’t know – but, Marianne’s nerves were already a wreck, so she resorted to ranting and waving the comment off with a wave of her arm. Both men knew how self-conscious Marianne was concerning her looks – even if she would never admit it. It was one of the things she assumed was why Roland cheated on her. She wasn’t pretty enough, thin enough, she didn’t smile enough, didn’t laugh enough, nothing was ever _enough_.

“I’m not even in my dress yet.” Marianne shrugged a shoulder and motioned down to herself. Marianne was wearing a simple black tank top with sweatpants and tennis shoes. Yet, as Marianne looked down at what she assumed was ‘unattractive’, Bog had never seen anything more beautiful. Marianne continued, “I mean, my makeup is done, thanks to Dawn—You know I never look this good when I do my make up—or ever, really. Ah, I probably don’t even look good now— _was that a fake compliment_? _Are you **fake** complimenting me, Bog_ —”

“Easy th’re, Tough Girl.” Bog raised a hand in surrender while the other pulled his mask off. “Na’fake compliments here, Ah swear.” Marianne took a shaky breath before setting her duffle bag down on top of Bog’s bed.

“Right.” Marianne took a deep breath and humorlessly laughed. “S—Sorry… I just—”

“Ah know.” Bog nodded to her, offering a small, reassuring smile. Her lips twitched back a poor excuse for a smile, but it calmed Bog enough to know that she was okay.

“I need to go pick up Dawn,” Sunny said as he walked past Bog and Marianne and headed towards the door, “I’ll see you two at the par- _taa_! Make sure to bring your masks!” Sunny was out the door in a flash, leaving the two on their own.

“ _Shit_ ,” Marianne ran a hand through her hair, and cursed again when she knew she just messed up all the hours Dawn spent on her hair with her _annoying_ nervous habit. Bog walked over to her and nudged her with his elbow.

“Wha’s goin’ on, Mari?”

“I—It’s nothing—Just nerves—I…” Marianne bit her lip, a hand moving to her arm to rub the spot Bog had touched as she looked up at him, “…Ro… Roland _is_ coming to the party—”

“ _What_?” Bog hissed, his face reddening in anger.

“He made an appearance back at my father’s… He convinced my dad—hell, _everyone_ in the damn country club to keep his appearance under wraps.” Marianne waved her hand, once again, before letting it run through her hair. “Something about him offering more money for the charity event or… _shit_ , I don’t know, Bog. I grabbed my shit and ran after I saw him… Didn’t even give him the chance to say ‘ _hello, buttercup_ ’.”

“We don’hav’ta go, Marianne.” Bog said, looking at the door. Marianne snorted, bringing her arm up to give his shoulder a punch before she suddenly froze, eyes wide.

“You…” She stopped herself and shook her head, letting her arm fall back to her side before walking past Bog. “You don’t have to come anymore, Bog. I understand if—”

“Like _hell_ Ah’m na’ comin’ _now_.” Bog said, grabbing her arm before she got any further from him. “Ah won’t let him near ye again, Marianne.”

“I can take care of my—” Marianne stopped midsentence, narrowing her eyes up at Bog. She leaned up, tilting her head before bringing her free hand up to his face to poke his chin. Her mouth hung open as she fell back on her feet, her eyes widening up at Bog.

“You… You _shaved_.”

The hand that held Marianne’s arm moved down to her hand, his other hand came up to rub against his stubble free chin.

“Aye, I shaved.” He finally said, his voice soft, looking down at Marianne, “…Which is _exactly_ why Ah’m still goin’.”

“Bog…” Marianne sighed, cheeks stained with red as she looked down at their intertwined fingers, “ _Thank you_.” Bog froze as Marianne lightly squeezed his hand. His eyes slowly turned to their hands before he cleared his throat, pulling his hand away in haste. 

“A—Ah’ll, _uh_ , lend ye me room f’r— _wha’ever_ , ye hav’left ta do.” Bog quickly walked backwards to the door. “Ah need’d ta’ talk ta Stuff before Ah— _we_ leave, so, jus’ text me when yer ready.” Bog was out the door before Marianne could say another word.

* * *

Marianne held onto Bog’s arm tight as they walked up to the Country Club. They were arriving late, per Marianne’s suggestion and request. She would rather herself and Bog not be introduced as they walked in, both for their own crippling anxiety and not to let Roland know that Marianne had arrived – also, a little hint of neither hearing their _full_ names used. Marianne had taken all but three minutes to put her dress on, a dress that Marianne couldn’t _believe_ Dawn convinced her to buy. Marianne’s dress was a bustier-style boned bodice with a sweetheart neckline, an A-line waist and a full skirt with pleating at the hips. The color was a deep purple, matching Bog’s tie, with black leaves and vines sprouted from the skirt down the gown, a few stray vines on the bodice, wrapping around the entire dress. She’d never worn anything that felt _right_ before – that felt like _her_. Whenever she attended these things with Roland, she had worn green, but wasn’t permitted to out-dress Roland – even though Marianne knew fully well Dawn’s potential to put together the perfect outfit. Dawn’s skill was little use when she dated Roland, he’d always say it was too flashy, too unladylike until Dawn would pull out something that Marianne knew she would never want her greatest enemies to wear. But, walking up the steps with Bog in this amazing dress, she felt like herself.

A smile tugged at her lips as she looked up at Bog, her hand gripping around Bog’s arm tighter. She hadn’t felt this way when she dated Roland. Even after she ended the engagement, she never felt like she had before. She never thought she could feel like her complete self again, and maybe that was a good thing. She was ditsy, clumsy, oblivious… What did Roland even see in her? She shook the thought of that man from her mind as her and Bog reached the top of the stairs. 

“Last chance, Tough Girl.” He mumbled, eyeing the doors warily. His free hand was stuffed in his pocket, his fingers twitching in anticipation.

“Same to you.” Marianne let out a breath and stood up straighter. She let go of Bog’s arm and turned to him. “You’re allowed to go, Bog. I won’t blame y—ow!”

Bog lightly punching Marianne’s shoulder and chuckled, “Ah’m applyin’ the same rules to you, Tough Girl.” Marianne ducked her head and shyly smiled, rubbing the shoulder Bog had lightly hit. Bog looked back at the door, a feeling of dread slowly settling into the air around the pair. Bog eyed Marianne from the corner of his eye before stepping forward and grabbing the handle of the door. Marianne quickly grabbing Bog’s arm, her grip the tightest he’s ever felt. If he didn’t know Marianne’s strength, he would be worried she was intentionally doing this. His Tough Girl didn’t realize exactly how strong she was when she was scared.

“Marianna—” 

“Don’t leave me.” Marianne cut him off, eyes pleading up at the man before her. “Don’t… don’t leave me— _not_ tonight—I…”

_I can’t do this without you._

Bog let go of the door handle and turned to her, grabbing the hand on his wrist and leaning down to meet her eyes.

“Ah’m here f’r you, Marianne.” She met his gaze, sucking in a breath as he continued. “Ah’m na’goin’ a’ywhere.”

Marianne slowly nodded, puffing her cheeks in confidence as she turned to the door. “I can do this.”

“You can,” Bog smiled, standing straight and reaching for the door once more, “and Ah’ll be right beside ye, Tough Girl. Every step of the way.”

* * *

The first two hours of the gala went as they usually did. High class mingling, whispers behind closed door, pitied glances shot towards Marianne and Bog. Bog had heard the whispers about Marianne. A part of him was shocked people were still talking about the broken engagement with Roland – a few of the women who he had known (after Marianne broke off the engagement) to have been with Roland while engaged to Marianne. He told himself to stay calm, over and over. If Marianne could ignore the silent mocking, he could too… or at least _try_. His anger was at it’s peak when Marianne turned to him and motioned towards the door leading to the veranda. Bog silently thanked the gods as he lead Marianne out. The only good thing that has come out of the night so far was Roland seemed to be keeping away from Marianne. He was pretty sure it was because Dagda still hadn’t arrived – which shocked both Marianne and Bog when they arrived. Dagda, the man who was forcing Marianne to even be here, was not here himself.

 _Odd_.

Bog and Marianne moved across the veranda before turning and leaning against the railing. Marianne pulled herself on top of the railing, silently thanking the gods that the railing was flat and large and _perfect_ to sit on, not having to worry about falling off. Bog leaned onto the railing next to her, one hand resting between them on the railing and the other scratching the side of his jaw. Bog had kept his promise from the beginning of the night, he hadn’t left Marianne’s side, even when Marianne had to talk to people he wasn’t fond of – which was everyone at this blasted party, save for the two, besides Marianne, who he’d call family. Dawn and Sunny. He hadn’t seen the couple since they greeted him and Marianne earlier in the evening, but everyone looked practically the same to him. Marianne and himself were the only ones not wearing bright, colorful attire. He’s seen Sunny’s mask on at least five other men. 

 _Such originality_ , Bog drawled, rolling his eyes. Marianne shifted next to him, a shiver going down her spine. There was a chill in the night air. The winter had been cruel this year, the snow only completely melting away two weeks prior to the gala. Bog’s eyes flickered towards the door, hearing laughter and seeing a few women peaking around to look at him and Marianne. He snarled and glared towards the women, though he doubted they could even see his glare with this stupid mask. Once the women dispersed, Bog relaxed against the railing, though his lips were pilled in a thin grimace.

“They dun’like me.” Bog mumbled, shoving the hand that wasn’t between him and Marianne in his pocket and glared towards the open doors when he saw another woman stick her head out. “Not that Ah mind. Jus’ a tad annoyin’.” 

“They don’t like me much either, Bog.” Marianne sighed, resting the side of her head against the side of his chest after wiggling her way between his arm and himself. Bog’s lips pulled into a small smile as Marianne curled against him. Bog ran his hand up and down Marianne’s arm, both in a comforting motion and one to warm her up. He could feel the chill biting against her skin.

“But,” Marianne smiled, shutting her eyes, “at least we like each other.” 

“Aye,” Bog hummed, leaning down and pressing his lips on top of her head, “tha’s all that matters.” 

Marianne hummed in agreement, wrapping an arm around Bog’s waist. “Another hour or two and we can leave. I promise.” Bog straightened back up and stared up at the sky, a nearly silent ‘aye’ fell from his lips as he watched the silent night above them.

“Full moon tonight.” Bog whispered after a long pause. Marianne tilted her head up at the clear night sky, a smile slowly tugging at the corners of her lips. The moon was shining brightly this night, all the stars visible as well. Marianne hadn’t seen this clear a night in almost a year, always either in bed by nightfall, in class, or too preoccupied to pay attention. She felt Bog’s arm tighten around her and felt his body relax back against the railing. Her eyes turned and focused on him and how he was just watching the sky. She saw how _relaxed_ he looked, how his sharp, angular face – “The most hideous face in all the land,” He commented once – was handsome, bathed in the moonlight. Even at this angle, Marianne could see his crystal blue eyes sparkling, his thin lips – always either baring his teeth or frowning – in a soft, gentle and _excited_ smile.

This time, the chill that shot down Marianne’s spine was _not_ from the cold. 

Marianne had had a crush on Bog, once upon a time. That crushed turned into something more the past couple of years and, now, it was more than she ever thought she’d feel for another man again. Bog had helped her through so much, she didn’t want to lose him. After Roland… Bog has been her rock. She couldn’t imagine her life without him. Marianne rather stay in silence than see Bog reject her.

Marianne swallowed thickly, taking a deep breath, “Y—Yeah, it’s… _beautiful_.” Marianne ducked her head back down, leaning back on Bog. 

 _Silence_.

“Marianne.” Marianne picked up her head, her breath catching in her throat when her gaze met Bogs. He looked at her with emotions no one has ever looked at her with before, emotions she didn’t think would ever be shown towards her. Marianne watched Bog as he removed his arm from around her to move and stand in front of her, taking her hands in his own.

“Bog?” Marianne’s voice cracked.

“May Ah ask ye somethin’?” Bog’s thumb lightly grazed her knuckles, giving Marianne a crooked teeth grin that made her heart skip a beat.

Marianne slowly nodded, “Of—of course.”

“Would ye like ta—” 

“Marianne!”

“Of _bloody_ course.” Bog grumbled under his breath, looking over his shoulder towards the door. Marianne cringed, letting her head fall forward as she shut her eyes and muttered a silent curse. Bog let go of her hands, moving back to his original position against the railing with his arms crossed. Dagda and Roland made their way out of the ballroom, ignoring the glares Bog and Marianne sent their way as they walked up to them.

“Buttercup!” Roland extended a hand, a large grin on his face as Marianne, unwillingly, took it. “I thought I had missed you.” Roland leaned down, about to plant a kiss on the back of Marianne’s hand, when she quickly pulled it away, rubbing the hand like it hand just been burned.

“ _Sorry_ , but Bog and I were—”

“Bogart!” Roland pushed his way in between Marianne and Bog, nearly causing Marianne to slip off the railing. “How have you been?”

“Fine,” Bog turned and glared down at Roland. “Until _now_.”

“Aw,” Roland pouted out his bottom lip, “Don’t be like that, big guy.”

“Is there something you needed, father?” Marianne pushed herself off of the railing and dusted her dress off. “Bog and I were in the middle of a conversation.” 

“Roland and I just wanted to check in. He’s been trying to speak to you all night but you were busy with the other guests.” Dagda placed his hands behind his back, smiling fondly at his daughter.

“I was.” Marianne clasped her hands together in front of herself, “I finally was able to take a breather and Bog wanted to join me. As I said before, we were in the middle of an _important_ conversation.”

“More important than speaking to your man?” Roland suddenly stood in between Dagda and Marianne, a charming smile plastered on his face as he winked at her. Marianne held her anger in and offered Roland a wicked smile.

“ _My_ man is dead, who are you again?”

“ _Marianne_!” Dagda hissed behind Roland. Bog covered his mouth, coughing to cover up his laughter.

“No, no,” Roland raised his hand and waved off the comment. “It’s alright. I see you’re still angry—”

“Angry?” Marianne tilted her head, “Angry. Hm, no. No, I’m not angry. Curious is more like it. Curious as to why you have the audacity to—”

“ _Marianne_.” Dagda walked from around Roland, eyes wide. Marianne shut her mouth and placed her hands behind her back, ducking her head down and taking a breath.

 _He’s offering money to fix the homeless shelter,_ Marianne took another breath, _it’s just one night. After tonight, he’ll be gone… once again._

Marianne picked her head back up, “Is there something you needed, Roland?”

“A dance.” Roland’s fake smile twisted into a triumphant one, pushing his hands into his pockets and standing taller than he did before. “And some time alone. I just want to talk, darling.”

Both Bog and Marianne looked at Dagda. Marianne silently pleading for her father to interject, say no, leave her alone with Bog—but she knew it wouldn’t happen with how desperate her father was looking at her. Bog couldn’t interject between the two, he didn’t have the money or status at this party to, but he had hoped Dagda would see Marianne’s discomfort and for once put his daughters needs before his own. Dagda smiled at Marianne, and that was that.

“One dance,” Marianne held up her index finger between herself and Roland, eyes hard, “and you have five minutes to talk.”

“Marianne.” Bog moved next to Marianne, a lips pulled down in a frown. “Ye dun’t—”

“I do.” Marianne said quietly, tilting her head up at Bog. “I’ll… I’ll be okay. I promise.”

Bog looked at Roland and felt his blood boil. The glint in the blonde’s eyes told him that he intended to do more than just _talk_.

“Ah promised Ah wouldn’t leave yer side—”

“She said to leave, Bogart.” Dagda finally spoke to him, his voice tired and stern. Bog bit back his remark and looked at Marianne.

“Go find Dawn and Sunny… Drink a little, have a bit of fun.” She nodded once to him, “If I’m not on the dance floor in six minutes, you have full permission to…” Marianne pursed her lip and furrowed her brows. There was a short pause as she found her words, looking straight at Roland as she spoke, “‘ _Tear the slimy git’s throat out_ ’.”

Bog looked over at Roland, his hands fisting in his pockets before nodding back at Marianne, “Aye… Ye’ll know where Ah’ll be if ye need me.” Marianne mumbled a ‘thank you’ before Bog headed towards the doors. He glanced back before he entered and he felt his anger rise once again. Roland took his place, leaning back against the railing with an arm stiffly around Marianne’s shoulder. He felt something primal swirl in him, he felt hatred and anger at not only Roland and Dagda, but himself. Marianne shouldn’t have to put up with this, she deserved better. Bog snarled and forced himself to turn away and search for Sunny and Dawn. He needed their help if he was going to do this right. Marianne needed to know. She needed to know everything that he’d kept bottled up and hidden under lock and key. If it wasn’t for Roland being here, Bog was positive he wouldn’t feel so strongly with finally telling Marianne how much he loved her.

But… _something_ in seeing Roland again, in seeing how Dagda supported _Roland_ , not his _daughter_ – the daughter who wishes nothing more than of wanting nothing further to do with the man that broke her heart – and his ‘misunderstanding’, in seeing how Roland had his arm wrapped around Marianne, putting _himself_ between Marianne and Bog – it stirred up emotions he thought he had control over; but, in the end, he was just a man in love with his best friend – a friend he would go to the ends of the earth to keep away from Roland.

He knew what he had to do, he knew what he _wanted_ to do, and if Marianne rejected him now at least he can say he went down fighting.

* * *

The conversation with Roland took more then five minutes. Hells, ten minutes after Bog left and it was still going on. Marianne kept her snarky remarks to herself, kept her yelling and hissing to a minimum, if it wasn’t for the fact that Marianne could feel her father’s eyes on them from inside the ballroom, Roland’s head would have been bitten off by now. By twenty minutes, not only was Marianne ready to throw Roland off the veranda, she was worried. If Bog wasn’t here by now, then something happened. Either her father somehow got him kicked out, he got himself kicked out, he left…

 _No_ , Marianne pursed her lips as she stared at Roland, _Bog wouldn’t leave me… not with Roland here._  

Then where the hell was he?

“It’s been twenty minutes, Roland,” Marianne sighed, placing her left hand on her right shoulder and rubbing the growing tension out. “If you still want that dance, I suggest we go to the dance floor now. I need to leave soon to finish a report—”

“Say no more, Buttercup.” Roland winked and held his hand out to her, “I’ll ask for your _new_ number from your father.”

“ _Great_.” Marianne cringed as she took his hand and sucked in a breath as they made their way back in the ballroom. Marianne noticed how the dance floor had suddenly been cleared, her fathers doing no doubt. Marianne looked through the crowd as Roland brought her to the middle of the dance floor. She didn’t see Sunny, Dawn or Bog amongst the crowd. The pit in her stomach only grew.

Had Bog really left her…?

As soon as Roland had his arm around her the lights in the ballroom cut off. A girlish shriek – one Marianne knew all too well and had to bite back laughter for – sounded from Roland as he jumped away from Marianne. Marianne rolled her eyes before looking towards the windows, hearing scurrying footsteps cut from side to side. She noticed a taller shadow, _too_ tall to be anyone else but Bog. He stopped when he was in front of the, now closed, veranda doors. He waved his hand above his head before the lights suddenly flashed on again. Marianne squinted, her eyes slowly adjusting to the bright light. When she looked back towards the doors, Bog was gone. She furrowed her brows, both curious and confused at what just conspired before she felt Roland’s hand on her shoulder.

He cleared his throat and held out his other hand to her, “Shall we begin?”

Marianne took a deep breath and nodded, allowing Roland to move closer until he held her.

 _Just one dance_ , Marianne cried in her mind, _one dance and then—_  

“ _They were victims of **The Knight**_ ,” Sunny appeared on the stage, microphone in hand, pointing his index finger toward Marianne and Roland. Marianne turned to the stage in confusion, ultimately ignoring the very man who was suddenly being pulled away from her side in favor of watching her sister who appear next to Sunny. Her bright smile focused on Marianne as she mirrored Sunny’s stance, pointing her index finger past Marianne.

“ _The chemical, physical, krypto- **knight**._ ” Dawn’s voice sang, putting emphasis on ‘knight’ once again, walking around Sunny and nodded her head towards her sister with a wink of her eye. Marianne tilted her head, completely oblivious to the message her sister was sending her.

Sunny walked up behind Dawn and rounded her when she stopped near the edge. He sang, eyeing Dawn, a smile slowly working its way onto his face, “ _Helpless to the bass and the fading light._ ”

The lights in the ballroom started to dim ever so slowly, barely noticeable to many of the guests, but Marianne caught on.

“ _Oh_ ,” The pair sang, smiling at each other, “ _They were bound to get together, bound to get together_.” They turned back towards the crowd, bright smiles on their faces as they looked at the dance floor slowly being filled.

Sunny started singing again as Dawn started walking down the stage. He grabbed onto Dawn’s wrist when she was a foot away, smiling at her, “ _He took her arm—_ ”

“Hey! What are you—…” Marianne’s head whipped around as her arm was grabbed, but her voice died as soon as she saw who held her. 

“ _She doesn’t know how it happened._ ” Dawn laughed, as Sunny twirled her to his chest. “ _They took the floor and he said~_ ”

“ _Don’t you dare look back_ ,” Bog smirked down at Marianne, “ _Just keep your eyes on me_.”

Dawn sang, “ _She said—_ ”

“ _You’re holding back_.” Marianne’s lips twitched into a grin as she laughed her own line.

Sunny sang, “ _He said—_ ”

Bog placed his left hand on Marianne’s lower back, grabbing her left hand with his right and pulled her to him. “ _Shut up and dance with me_.” 

“ _Those dorks are each other’s destiny!_ ” Dawn laughed, wrapping her arm around Sunny as they watched their friends start to dance.

Dawn and Sunny sang, “ _They said—_ ”

“ _Ooh, Ooooh!_ ” Marianne laughed as Bog twirled her. “ _Shut up and dance with me!_ ” 

The lights went black, the music completed faded and for a split second Marianne thought the power went out, and then—

The entire lighting system in the ballroom started to flicker, different shades were suddenly painting the dance floor – purple’s, green’s, blue’s, red’s; it was all so beautiful to Marianne, and even more when others started to join in on the dancing. The dance floor was filled once again as Dawn and Sunny continued to sing.

“I can’t believe you did this!” Marianne yelled over the music as her and Bog continued to dance around each other.

“I couldn’t let ye have all the fun, Tough Girl!” Bog laughed, pulling her back into his arms.

“Oh, Bog!” Marianne laughed, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her chin on his chest, looking up at him.

“ _A backless dress and some beat up sneaks_.” Sunny sang again. But his voice was far away to Marianne and Bog. The two’s dancing slowly until it stopped completely, them staring up at each other; forgetting the world around them.

“ _His disco tech—Juliet—teenage dream!_ ” Bog brought his hand up, catching Marianne’s chin between his fingers.

“ _He felt it in his chest when she looked at him—_ ” Oh did Bog feel _something_ as he dipped his head down and capture Marianne’s lips in a passionate and tender kiss.

“ _They knew; they were bound to be together!_ ” Dawn nearly squealed into the microphone, her grip on Sunny tightened as she watched Bog and Marianne. “ _Bound to be together!_ ”

“Ah love ye, Marianne,” Bog whispered once he pulled away. His face was flush, his eyes looking at Marianne with such _trust_ and _vulnerability_ and _love_. Tears pricked the corners of Marianne’s eyes.

_Bog… he loves **me**._

“Ah’ve loved ye fer—”

“Bog.”

“Gods, fer _years_ and Ah couldn’t—”

“ _Bog_.”

“Ah—Ah couldn’t… Ah was a coward and afraid to tell ye—ack!” Marianne grabbed onto his tie and brought him down to her height for another kiss, successfully shutting him up. She smiled into the kiss when she felt Bog’s arms wrap around her once again, pulling her flush against his chest and even hoisting her up to his level.

“Bogart Duncan Kingston,” Marianne lightly traced his bottom lip with her thumb, some of her lipstick smudged against his lips. Marianne looked at him, the grip on his tie tightening as she spoke, “I love you, too.”


End file.
